Chapter Text
A storm was afoot. Erik could see the signs, even under the dim lighting of the bar: the brewing grey clouds, the angry crash of waves, and the darkening sky. Though, he could only imagine how it’d feel when they began to roar, and lightning struck down from the heavens.
But he was safe here. Safe. In this glass cage with his vulnerabilities laid bare, where the slightest twitch could make the storm boom and shatter his picturesque image of near tranquility, flooding his lungs with the black waters. Then, in an instant, he’d be gone. Sunken, chained to this hideous land; this hard rock of imperfection and a shadowy reminder of his past. As his eyes close, the only sign of his struggle would be those dying bubbles, teetering upon the surface of the water. Oh, yes. Against the bestial ocean, not even the most miraculous of man could survive. Not even him.
Erik shifted, suddenly plagued with a sense of unease. He had no power here. He realized that now.
He savored the last few drops of his drink with time he could not afford to spend, and felt chills as that golden liquid slid down his throat, followed by a sense of simple dread. The drink was numbing, yes, but not quite as satisfying as he recalled. Why he chose to merely sit there, and allow the sharp edge of his intellect to dull, he was unsure. In his prime, he would’ve read and tested and explored, pushing the limits, awestruck by his own capabilities—and the pure, unquenchable thirst for knowledge would’ve shone in his eyes, raw and unmistakable, even in the darkest of nights. What had changed, since then?
What had changed, indeed.
Charles was gone, for one. That odd feeling in his chest, which he had initially perceived as triumph, had unraveled and revealed itself to be a horrible mixture of anger, guilt, and that overwhelming, parasitic despair that came only when a man loses his best friend. He could feel it now, eating away at his heart, which he had thought had been lost years ago, only to now lose it again.
And Rogue. Perhaps the only good thing that had come with his newly appointed role as leader of the X-Men. Beautiful, brilliant, belligerent Rogue. Fraught with anger, and so many of those same feelings as he, yet she maintained herself despite them. And her talent! He had hardly seen such a power in all the years of his life, much less in someone so young.
Ah, yes. Age. That was an issue too, wasn’t it? Not one he liked to address—ever, really, but he had lived a long enough life to know he wasn’t a coward. He was many things, some good, others bad, but a coward was not one of them.
Erik sighed, leaning back in his seat. He said that, yet he still chose to hide, and numb his mind with alcohol. At one point, he had truly believed in his cause. He thought that he was bringing nothing but good to the world. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Now, it was a question of ’is it worth it?’ rather than ’can I do it?’. That was the question for a lot of things, wasn’t it?
“Erik?”
He flinched at the sound of her voice, as much as he hated to admit it. He was startled. When had that last occurred?
He rubbed his face, feeling a pounding in his head. He could see the storm outside intensify. But her presence made it a little better. Just a little.
“Yes, Rogue?” He tried not to sigh. It wasn’t because of her. It never was. He didn’t want to make her think otherwise.
He turned a little, so he could see her better. She looked pretty. Her eyes were brighter than his had ever been.
“You’ve been in here all day, sugar.” She took a few tentative steps inside, as though she were concerned of desecrating sacred grounds. If only she knew. Sacred, maybe. Holy, no.
She looked around. “Well, this place is charmin’.”
“It’s only a bar.” This time, he did sigh. A burden was lifted off his shoulders when he did. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to not think about stupid things like age and beauty and talent, and… and… himself. “You’ve ever been to one?” He nearly winced. Everything went back to age in some way.
“With Remy, yes.” She came closer, this time floating. Erik tried not to roll his eyes, and turned back around so she wouldn’t see his face if he did. That damned Cajun. How childish of him, though. Would she think it was childish, if he told her? She probably would.
He refilled his drink, deciding that his inner monologue was getting to be too much.
“The team’s planning to use the Danger Room soon.” Rogue’s hand was on his shoulder now. He eased slightly. “You gotta leave, hun.”
Right.
“Right,” he said.
He didn’t move.
She squeezed his shoulder. Finally, he stood. The bar faded into white, as though it had never been there in the first place. Simply another delusion; a fractured memory he wished he could truly relive, but never would.
“C’mon.” Only her voice could’ve shook him from his daze. It was soft, but strong. Her, in essence. “You alright, Erik? You don’t look so well.”
“Fine.” He looked away. A part of him died as he did. “Let me know when they’re done.”
He wasn’t done. Not yet. He hadn’t said goodbye.